Illustration by Allen B. ThangkhiewDrifting atop cerulean waters in a surreal version of a memory.
Floating by the truth, adding allure drop by drop.
As if the real story lacks capacity for interest.
Perception clouded by extra ingredients.
A cartographer of misdirection.
Fiction for fanfare. It's careless.
Truth is never undeserving.
Skewed memory may form without intentional disguise.
Not every brush stroke is visible in the finished painting.
Truth always arrives, often greeted alone.
A surprise party of one.
Crucial to call for celebration.
Memories, like dreams, recurring.
Slightly new with each viewing.
Puzzled by the pieces that can't seem to be seen.
Gone on purpose? Just for now? Gone for good?
Filling in the gaps with those boldened droplets.
Those excess flavors.
The whispers of magic that crave to be regarded.
Special, rare, and captivating.
Is the truth really not enough?
Because our truths are known backward and sideways.
Perhaps they are tiresome when being recalled.
We recite them, sometimes only to ourselves.
The delivery is reimagined.
The highlights redefined.
A fresh memory tends to be overflowing with facts.
A memory from childhood can be riddled with embellishments.
Likely, it is not our goal to falsify the narrative,
yet we are all guilty of being the main character.
